Monday, April 19, 2010

I thought you'd be happy when I cleaned you out on Saturday afternoon. Okay, sure, I left behind a covered bowl of pasta salad that was beyond its best days, but you knew I'd take care of that on trash day, right?

Were you jealous that I went out for a fantastic dinner date at Hudson's on Saturday night, instead of staying in to cook? I know, we went on and on about that delicious cheese sauce. . .err, chipolte beer blanc on the venison and the fish. . .ooooh, the pecan crusted snapper atop corn bread pudding! I dreamt about that corn bread pudding on Saturday night.

That's right, I said it: I dreamt about restaurant food while you compressed your last ice-cold breath. You tried to tell me on Sunday morning, with your little puddle under the ice maker. But I didn't see the signs--I thought I'd just splashed some water on that little shelf, so I dutifully soaked it up and went along my way.

Okay, okay. "Along my way" was out to brunch. I didn't know the Original Pancake House wasn't the original! I mean, if something is an Austin original, and happens to have tasty pancakes, it's kindof my duty as a good citizen and buy local, right?? My helpful Secret Agent Man pointed out that he enjoyed those same tasty cakes all over his old stomping grounds. At least you were spared the post-brunch bragging on how much we once again enjoyed a meal that didn't have home field advantage.

Then, finally then, I knew. Your carefree days of crushing ice for margaritas were over. Were we through for good?

I consulted your appliance overlords. They offered to send a repair man as soon as possible! Rejoice! Refreeze! Refrigeration! Except. . ."as soon as possible" in their repair world is Wednesday. Wednesday?! As in, three whole days after your untimely death? Should I be expecting an appliance miracle?

What will be a miracle is if the repair person shows up on time, after actually calling me to tell me he's on the way. And is then able to resuscitate you quickly and easily. Because I am afraid that I may have a few extra days of pioneer-style living in my week, if we get down to any ridiculous parts-ordering nonsense. Do you know I'm getting my milk at Starbucks these days, Refrigerator? My sweet Secret Agent Man is bringing just enough dinner over so we don't have leftovers, Fridge! I'm putting you on notice: get back in the game by Wednesday afternoon, or I'll be chillin' with your brand new (owed to me under warranty, dang it!) replacement.